


Come Up Hard

by gloss



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Flash Fic, Hand Jobs, I DON'T EVEN GO HERE, M/M, Multi, OT3, Steve Rogers Insatiable Cockslut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 07:33:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20272270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloss/pseuds/gloss
Summary: Steve's having a lot of sex with lots of people. Bucky and Sam are pretty supportive, not to mention turned the hell on.





	Come Up Hard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kimra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimra/gifts).

> Title from "Trouble Man", ofc.

It was a strange truth about legends: belief in them rested in large part on a great deal of disbelief and denial.

Security depended not so much on secrecy and discretion, but conventional wisdom. That's how Steve got away with as much as he did. Thing was, even if you did get to fuck Captain America, who was going to believe you? 

Sam wasn't surprised by Steve's enthusiastic, highly energetic promiscuity. The man had cruised him at a national monument, after all. He knew what he was getting into.

Still, sometimes he got concerned. 

The real mistake was voicing any of this to Bucky.

"He's being Steve," Bucky muttered. He lay sprawled on the couch, one bare foot on the floor, and held his phone in the air with both hands. His thumbs tap-tap-tapped as he played one of the stupid games he was addicted to. Crush the Candy? Cupcake Craze? Something brightly-colored and manic, anyway. "He's just living his life."

"Living his big-dicked, no-refractory, insatiable life, yeah," Sam said.

"Jealous?" He didn't look away from the screen.

Sam rubbed both hands over his face. Dropping them to dangle between his legs, he said, "Oh, yeah, I'm dying over here."

Bucky shrugged, human shoulder going higher than metal one. "You sound jealous."

"Nope."

"Because it'd be okay to be jealous."

"You giving me permission now? That how this works?"

Bucky made some sub-verbal noise that didn't clear anything up. If Sam didn't know better, he'd be justified in assuming that everyone born before 1925 communicated solely in grunts and non-committal monosyllables.

No, that was just Barnes. Now he frowned at his phone, thumbs going still, as if it were betraying him.

Sam pushed himself to his feet and then stopped, unsure about where he was headed or what he wanted to do. "Christ, man, are you going to deign to look at me or should I just have a conversation with myself?"

"This is a conversation?" Bucky asked.

"No." Sam sighed heavily. "Far from it."

"Okay." Bucky rolled onto his side. He still held his phone, so it obscured the bottom half of his face. For a moment, just a flash, he looked like his former self. Sam didn't shudder or anything, but he did let himself feel the spike of alarm. "'Cause you'll probably want to see this."

"See what?"

"On the phone."

"I know it's on your phone! What is it?"

"Come see." Bucky may have smiled just then. Sam chalked it up to gas.

"Send me the link."

He made another of his little grunts and Sam grinned. The deadly assassin and childhood hero still struggled with the simplest of social media tasks.

"Fine, old man," Sam said. "Hand the phone over."

"No."

"For Christ's sake, Barnes —" Sam pushed him back so he could perch on the edge of the couch and grabbed for the phone. Bucky tightened his metal hand's grip hard enough for the case to start to crack. "If you break another of those, it's coming out of your allowance."

"Shut up. It's not an allowance."

Sam wriggled back, getting nice and comfortable against Bucky's midsection. "It's a set amount of money that Steve gives you every week. Hate to break it to you, but that's an allowance. Now hand your phone over."

Instead, Bucky folded himself _around_ Sam, arm slipping around Sam's chest to bring them close. When he was satisfied with Sam's position, he tipped the phone horizontal and tapped the play button.

Sam didn't have a chance to read the title of the video. It looked like a keymash, anyway.

Right in Sam's ear, Bucky said, "Just _look_."

It was amateur porn. _Highly_ amateur, poorly lit, shakily shot on a cell phone. Looked like they were in a restaurant or bar bathroom. The guy filming held the phone at his chest level, pointed downward. 

He was getting blown. He had a nice body, so far as Sam could tell, nothing spectacular but fit. Nice dick, trimmed pubes.

The star of the show, however, was the man on his knees, deepthroating that dick like he was starving. He had one beefy arm wrapped around the guy's thighs and his other hand on the balls, maybe the taint. Sam shivered and eased his legs apart minutely. He did like some ass play, he couldn't lie.

The blower was moaning, slobbering, _going to town_ on this guy. Like it was his last meal, his first drink after a week in the desert, his everything. His face was flushed, his eyes screwed up tight. 

The filmer got a grip on the blower's hair and tipped his head back to piston-fuck his red, open, wet mouth. His beautiful stupid blond-god face. _Steve_.

"Goddamn it," Sam muttered. His mouth was dry, his skin was hot. Bucky's breath pooling down his neck was hotter yet, damp and promising.

"He's really good at that." Bucky's voice was low and harsh. Confidential.

"I know."

"Goes all out, every time."

"Yeah, Barnes, I've noticed."

Bucky moved the phone to his other hand so the metal one drifted down Sam's chest to his groin. Sam ground up against the grasp, through underwear and pants, so much friction and not nearly enough _contact_.

He wiggled and grunted, pushing slightly free from Bucky's smothering embrace, just long enough to tug off his shirt and get his pants open and down. Sounds of slurping and moans tinkled distantly from the phone; when he looked over his shoulder, Bucky was watching it intently, tongue in the corner of his lips, metal hand on his own crotch now.

"Hey," Sam said and batted at the hand. "You want to share, or is this a solo show?"

The smile Bucky gave him almost made all the irritation worth it. It was broad and quick and _bright_, worthy of Steve himself. 

Just as quickly, of course, it vanished, replaced by a shit-eating little smirk. Bucky rolled onto his back and threw his leg over the back of the couch.

Sam dropped on his knees on top of him, kissing the smirk, biting at it, opening it up until Bucky was murmuring into Sam's mouth. The phone clattered to the floor as Bucky took hold of Sam's ass and Sam reached between them to get their dicks together. He stroked slow and firm, drawing it out, until Bucky squirmed a couple times and slapped his ass impatiently.

"Easy," Sam whispered.

"Nope," Bucky replied, "never."

Their kisses were sharp and wet; their hips ground and bucked against each other. There was never a _good_ rhythm, just an intense one, growing more desperate. Sam fucked into his own hand, heard Bucky moan in response, then lifted his ass for Bucky to manhandle, pinch and spank.

"More," Bucky groaned and Sam shook his head. Steve would have complied right away. Steve lived for those kinds of demands-that-were-confessions. Steve would hang his head off the bed, let one of them fuck his throat while the other took his ass, and _thank them for the trouble_. Steve would come home — was probably on his way home right now — with someone's come in his ass or the corners of his mouth, let them clean him up, then ask if they'd mind very much getting filthy and sticky, sweaty and stinky, all over again.

The heat surrounding Sam was tightening, sharpening nearly unbearably. He could _see_ Steve with that stranger's dick in his mouth, hear him gobbling it up. That vision overlaid the one actually in front of him, Bucky's cheeks gone red, his lips swollen, the soft skin of his throat exposed for Sam to bite. His cock moved against Sam's, twitched in time with his moans. His metal fingers dug into Sam's crack, against his hole, as he jerked up, head falling back, and Sam pulled them off together, stripping their cocks, squeezing their cockheads.

He came in the crease of Bucky's hip, felt Bucky spatter his navel, and slowly pulled his hand free. Their bodies worked lazily together a little while longer, flares and echoes of orgasm pulsing irregularly through them.

Steve was going to come home and find them like this, fucked out and sleepy.


End file.
